


Original Sin Tartan

by Vagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale tells Crowley all the ways he loves him, Begging, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kilts, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Established Relationship, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: Crowley gets that temptation itch after the world is saved and turns up at a wedding in Edinburgh to have a little fun. Unfortunately for him, a certain angel is there to thwart him. Semi-publicly. With Crowley in a kilt.That's it. That's the plot.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 921
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Top Aziraphale Recs





	Original Sin Tartan

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. [Lima on Twitter](https://twitter.com/limas_art)(who is amazing and all of you should be following them for their good Good Omens art!) posted [this delicious WIP of Crowley getting buggered in a kilt](https://twitter.com/limas_art/status/1203421378743021569) and I was inspired. Thus, I wrote them a fic that is 100% porn and softness. 
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
>  **PLEASE NOTE:** There is a full NSFW piece embedded in the middle of this. I don't want anyone to be surprised. All my love to Lima for finishing the piece and letting me put it in the fic!! Go follow their twitter in the link above.

“How did I know I’d find you here?” 

The angel’s voice was so familiar, but he hadn’t bothered with an accent. It was a disappointment after all, since they were in Edinburgh. Crowley had managed to put one on while building his cover story, there to do a bit of harmless tempting. The itch post-apocalypse had finally been too much and even though he was no longer beholden to Hell, he wasn’t above stirring up a little mayhem. 

In this case, he was going to infiltrate the wedding of a pastor’s daughter to try and woo a few of the bridesmaids into sin on their friend’s big day. It would be easy. He’d even purchased a kilt for the occasion, complete with a Prince Charles’ jacket, vest, and tartan tie that matched the kilt. 

The tartan was a design of his own making, reds and blacks melding and shot through with familiar creams and browns. He called it Original Sin Tartan. It seemed fitting. 

The wedding and reception were to be had at the Bruntsfield Hotel. He’d heard the bride’s father complaining earlier about it not being in a church. Of course he had thrown in a few sympathetic murmurs, happy to stir up the father’s upset about his daughter’s day. He couldn’t help it. He was still a demon. 

Aziraphale approached him. The angel was decidedly _not_ dressed in a kilt, which was a bit of a disappointment. When in Scotland and all that. He smirked. 

“Angel. Didn’t know you had an invite to this shindig.” 

“I think any couple would welcome the arrival of an angel at their wedding,” Aziraphale shot back, his face the very definition of displeased. “Even more so when their wedding goes off without a hitch.” 

They were on the sidewalk outside of the hotel. Crowley had begged off for a cigarette which was nothing more than a stub in his hand. He dropped it to the pavement and stamped it out with his shoe. 

“Where’s the fun in that? You don’t have to uphold Heaven’s call anymore, you know that right? We’re free Aziraphale. Live a little.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed something righteous that made Crowley shiver. “Who is to say I don’t enjoy thwarting the wiles of Hell in my spare time? This _is_ living. Though I’m a bit annoyed I was dragged away from a very good book for this.” 

Crowley hesitated. The tone of Aziraphale’s voice was one he hadn’t heard in quite some time. Annoyance laced with a bit of divine irritation. Aziraphale took notice and his expression softened. 

_“You want a bit of divine fury, my love?” Aziraphale asked, eyebrows raised. “We could easily play that out here, in our home.” They’d been staying at the cottage more and more. Aziraphale liked to walk out to the sea on stormy days._

_“It isn’t the same,” Crowley replied as he tossed his feet up on the coffee table in spite of the scolding look it earned from Aziraphale. He took a sip of his wine. “I want to feel as if you’ve caught me.”_

_“A bit of cat and mouse?” Aziraphale smiled over the lip of his glass._

_“Yes, except instead of getting eaten I would like it to end in me getting a thorough seeing to.”_

_“Mm. You can’t expect me not to play with my food a bit first, though.”_

_Crowley shuddered. “_ Angel _.” He meant it to be scolding, but his tone wavered._

_“This is a more complicated scene than we typically undertake, and there’s the chance of mortals interfering. As such, while your safe word will stop any and all role-play I’d like us to use the color system to try and guide the scene.”_

_They hadn’t used colors since they’d started this sort of play. Crowley sulked. “I’m a_ demon _Aziraphale, I’m not fragile.”_

 _Aziraphale shrugged. “These are my terms, Crowley, because you are_ my _demon and I love you dearly. I’ll not have this scene devolve into something you don’t wish for it to be. And I would rather like that system for myself as well. This is something new for both of us.”_

_“Fine.” It was fair and Crowley knew it. Aziraphale knew him too well. “But I have a few other details I want to work into the scene.”_

“Green,” Crowley murmured and Aziraphale’s face lit up for a brief moment before it settled back into comfortable annoyance. 

“I would have thought the end of the world meant we could both retire.” Aziraphale sighed. 

“You could still be with your book, angel. No reason you had to come all the way to Edinburgh just to thwart me. Let this one go, it isn’t as if it matters.” Crowley brushed imaginary ash off of his jacket. “I should be heading inside.” 

“As should I. I am, after all, here to deliver a few blessings to the lucky bride and groom.” 

Crowley scowled. “There’s got to be at least two other weddings happening here today, if not thousands around the world.” He allowed his scowl to fade into something of a smirk. “Unless, of course, you’re really here just to follow me around. If you wanted to see me in a kilt you just had to ask. I’d throw you a bone.” 

Aziraphale scoffed. “Did you make the pattern yourself?” 

Oh, he’d noticed. Crowley preened. “Yes. I call it Original Sin.” 

“How creative,” Aziraphale deadpanned. “I suppose they’re right when they say demons aren’t imaginative.” 

“Oh do shut up,” Crowley growled. “And sod off.” He turned on his heel to head inside the hotel, nodding to the two workers behind the check-in desk. 

The door opened and shut behind him and he heard Aziraphale’s footsteps. He tried not to shiver with anticipation. It didn’t work. He walked a bit faster, turning a corner and heading in the direction of where the bride and her party would be getting dressed. In his head he pictured one of the half-dressed groomsmen already tipsy and on his arm, both of them stumbling into the dressing room. The women would take one look at a handsome, shirtless Scotsman and with a little suggestion their thoughts would run wild. 

It was a perfect plan and he wondered what the look on Aziraphale’s face would be right as a hand curled in the back of his jacket and yanked him. He yelped, even when his mouth was immediately covered by a familiar hand and he was dragged through a doorway. The door was kicked shut and he was pushed up against a far wall, tripping over a mop. 

They were in a storage closet. The light clicked on and Aziraphale stood there, eyes shining. 

“What the fuck, angel?” Crowley snarled. “You think if you keep me in here long enough I’ll forget what I came here to do? I’m as capable of unlocking that door as anyone else.” 

“But you won’t.” Aziraphale said it in a way that made it sound like a commandment. There was just a twinge of holiness in it. Crowley’s heart yearned for it. But he shook off those sensations and instead tried to bully by Aziraphale to the door. 

He was once again shoved easily against the wall, this time bumping his head against it with a wince. “Shit!” Crowley reached up and rubbed the back of his head, glaring daggers. “Trying to crack my head open? Discorporate me? You know now that we’ve been kicked out of our respective headquarters it would be ages before I could get a new body. If they even grant one to me.” 

Aziraphale stiffened. “Yellow.” 

Crowley stepped toward his angel and reached up to touch his cheek. “Hey. I’m fine. I’m not actually hurt.” He slid his hand down to take hold of Aziraphale’s, bringing it to the back of his head. “See?” 

Aziraphale’s fingers stroked through his hair. “Regardless, I’ll be more careful. I forgot myself for a moment.” 

“ _Good_. I want you to forget yourself.” Crowley stole a kiss. “I’m okay angel, I swear.” 

Aziraphale cupped his face in his hands and kissed him again. “Alright. Get back where I pushed you then, if you would my love.” 

Just like that, Aziraphale’s soft expression disappeared as he advanced on Crowley. Crowley pressed his back to the wall and sneered. “You know if it isn’t this wedding, it will be another. I’m bloody _bored_ , angel. I’m not meant to be jobless.” 

“Then perhaps I ought to be doing a better job of keeping you occupied.” Aziraphale was close enough now that Crowley could feel the heat of him. He stared into blue eyes that reflected some measure of annoyance, but deeper than that a familiar spark of _love_ that Crowley knew all too well. 

His damn angel could never hide it during scenes. Crowley didn’t mind. There was something about being loved that made all of this sweeter. 

“Oh? And how do you intend to do that?” Crowley huffed. “Keep me locked in a closet?” 

Aziraphale put his hands on the wall on either side of Crowley’s head and leaned in until their noses touched. “I have a few ideas.” 

It happened in a flash. Aziraphale grabbed him and flipped him around to press him against the wall. 

“What are you doing?” Crowley grumbled. “If you wanted to feel me up you could at least get us a room.” 

“As if a filthy beast like you deserves one,” Aziraphale hissed into his ear. Crowley gave a full body shudder and pressed back into Aziraphale’s chest. One of the angel’s hands crept down between his legs, finding him hard. Aziraphale tsk’ed. 

“This is what I mean,” he said, disappointment heavy in his tone. “A bit of rough handling by an angel and you’re getting turned on. You can’t control yourself, yet you expect to tempt humans? What did you plan to do, go in there swinging your hips with the hope one of them would take notice?” 

“You clearly don’t know the first thing about temptation,” Crowley bit out. 

“No?” Aziraphale scoffed and groped Crowley again and then kissed his ear, smirking against it. “Then what’s this?” 

“An unfortunate reaction.” 

“The fact that you are even walking around with an Effort is proof enough of your schemes. Were you hoping to be the tempter? To take a human to bed with you? Disgusting.” 

Crowley’s breath hitched and he pressed his forehead to the wall, shuddering as Aziraphale’s hand moved up and rested warmly against his belly. It was a grounding touch and he took a few deep breaths as Aziraphale remained quiet behind him, giving him the space. 

“I’d never take a human to bed.” Crowley grumbled. Aziraphale’s lips brushed ever so lightly behind his ear and he knew his reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was just grateful he hadn’t asked for a bloody color because this was _perfect_. Call him disgusting, accuse him of sin, it was what he deserved. 

“No?” Aziraphale asked, breath hot on his neck. “Why not? I have.” 

Crowley growled. “What?” 

“I’m a being of _love_ , Crowley,” Aziraphale said as if Crowley were stupid. “Making love is a piece of that, and there have been humans across the centuries who needed a bit of that in their life. Call it a blessing.” 

Crowley didn’t want to think about others with his angel. Er, _the_ angel. Fuck. Even he was having difficulty keeping track of the scene. 

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Have you ever had someone make love to you, Crowley?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Why would I? I’m a demon. We’re all about biting and clawing our way through things like that.” _We don’t deserve love_ was what he wanted to say. 

“And?” Aziraphale prompted as his free hand, the one not still resting comfortingly on his stomach, came to rest against his thigh. 

“And what?” 

“You want to say more, I can feel it. Why haven’t you made love, hm? I’m sure someone took a look at your tempting face and fell in love.” 

“My face is tempting?” Crowley asked, grasping onto something that wasn’t lying about love making. Aziraphale had made love to him enough that the lies seemed strange on his tongue. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” 

“How about you show me?” Crowley breathed out. 

“Hm?” Aziraphale’s hand drifted, teasing against his groin. 

“S-show me. Show me why I should promote love making instead of _lust_.” 

Aziraphale hummed as he pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s neck. “I suppose that is its own kind of divine retribution, hm? Demons aren’t made to accept love after all. It will burn you.” 

“On second thought, maybe I could just suck you off and be done with it?” Crowley offered, backpedaling. 

“No. I think you’ve chosen a fine punishment for yourself.” Aziraphale reached down and hiked up Crowley’s kilt, his hand sliding up the inside of his thigh. “Oh, you’re so warm and lovely aren’t you?” 

“Aziraphale, stop,” Crowley shook his head. “Don’t do this. I don’t...I don’t _want_ this. You should go back to throwing me around.” 

“I think not. I’m afraid you’re making this punishment all the more compelling my darling. Weddings are about the union of two people in love, after all. You do choose the best punishments. Evil contains the seed of its own destruction and all that.” Aziraphale chuckled and Crowley felt the vibrations against his back. 

“Angel.” Crowley grit his teeth as Aziraphale nuzzled his neck. 

“I quite like the kilt, you know. Did you put in creams and browns thinking about me?” He pressed a kiss beneath his ear and then nibbled at the skin. “To get my attention? Oh my dear you’ve probably gone so long without feeling love haven’t you? I’m sorry I was so rough earlier. I promise I’ll be gentle from here on out.” 

“Be _rough_!” Crowley cried out and tried to turn in Aziraphale’s embrace. The angel didn’t let him. He held him against the wall. 

“Be _still_.” His tone left no room for argument, Crowley’s body stilling as divine energy tingled down his spine. His hips thrust into the air as a whimper was torn from his throat. He loved it when Aziraphale did that. 

“Please,” Crowley whispered. 

“Please what, my beautiful boy? Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Aziraphale continued to run his fingers up and down the inside of Crowley’s thigh, using his foot to nudge Crowley’s legs further apart. “From your sharp nose to your delectable jawline…” 

He took a moment to press open mouthed kisses to what he could reach of Crowley’s jaw, humming. “I want to bite at your collarbones and leave a trail of kisses over your chest.” 

“That sounds like lust,” Crowley pointed out. Aziraphale’s hand trailed over his clothed chest before he started to unbutton his undershirt. His fingertips ran over Crowley’s exposed collarbones. 

“Hardly.” 

“You just love the aesthetics. That’s not real love.” 

“No? Are you trying to counsel an angel on matters of love? Weren’t you just the one admitting you’re nothing but an unloveable beast from the depths of Hell?” 

“I didn’t use those words.” Crowley was slightly wounded and at the next touch he flinched. 

“I love your imagination,” Aziraphale whispered into his ear before he brushed a ghost of a kiss to Crowley’s temple. “The way you think of the work you do as a series of small ripples in a big pond. You’ve always been the best kind of adversary, keeping me on my toes.” 

“Stop.” Crowley closed his eyes. Aziraphale’s love was all around him. It was thick and cloying in the air, warm and comforting down his back, enticing where his hand slipped back under the kilt and ran over the round of his bare ass. 

“I love it when you take off your glasses and actually look at me, all those emotions you try to hide out there for the world to see. You have the loveliest eyes.” 

“Back to aesthetics,” Crowley accused. “See?” 

“I love the way you feed the ducks at St. James Park before I arrive, thinking I don’t see it. You talk to them, ask them about their day, chastise them when they’re too rough with one another. You have such a soft heart.” 

“Shut up!” Crowley tossed his head back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“May I see your eyes?” Aziraphale asked, his fingers hovering above Crowley’s glasses. 

“Yessss,” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale plucked them off of his face and tossed them with a clatter to the floor. 

“Lovely boy.” His fingers danced down Crowley’s exposed throat while his other hand moved to grasp his cock beneath his kilt. “Oh goodness, what do we have here? Have you been getting off on my declarations of love?” 

The damn bastard sounded absolutely delighted. Crowley growled and tried to look away but the fingers against his throat became a hand pressing very lightly down in warning. 

“No, I have you right where I want you at this moment. You’ll stay like this, I think,” Aziraphale said with a slow stroke of Crowley’s cock. He realized very quickly that Aziraphale had miracled lube onto his hand. Crowley jerked into the tight touch with a whimper. 

“Could it be that you enjoy being loved?” Aziraphale hummed in thought. “Let me continue then, yes? Let’s see, where did I leave off…” 

“Angel, please, mercy. I get it. I won’t tempt the damn bridesmaids,” Crowley whined. “I’ll leave. I swear I’ll leave.” 

“Mmhm. You’ll leave once we’re finished here, certainly.” Aziraphale smiled and stroked him again before leaving his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. “Now please stop interrupting me.” 

“Ngk.” Crowley bit back a retort and stared into Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes. 

“You lovely thing.” Aziraphale tilted his head to brush a kiss to Crowley’s lips despite the awkward angle, and Crowley’s heart lurched. He itched to have Aziraphale kissing him and a whine worked its way out from the back of his throat. “Oh hush now, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” 

Aziraphale began to stroke him ever-so-slowly once more and Crowley’s hips moved with it. “Now my dear I’m going to tell you what I’d like to do.” Aziraphale’s hand stilled at the base of his cock again. 

Crowley nodded, his breathing rough and ragged as he tried to collect himself. 

“I’m going to have you plant your hands on the wall in front of you, bent forward. Then I’m going to hike up your handsome kilt. I’m going to fuck you on my fingers until you come, preferably untouched if you think you can manage, and then I’m going to fuck you against the wall until you’re hard again. You’ll need to stay that way until I come and then, perhaps, I’ll allow you to finish.” Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “How does that sound?” 

“Sounds like you just want to get your rocks off.” Crowley snorted. “And like a bit of control.” 

“Oh yes, you’re right. I forgot something wholly important. The entire time I’m going to tell you all the things I love about you.” 

Crowley shut his eyes against the wave of emotion that washed over him. He grabbed at Aziraphale’s arm and held it to him for a moment. 

“Color, love?” Aziraphale whispered into his ear. 

“Green,” Crowley mumbled. “This doesn’t sound like divine retribution.” 

“I think this is far worse quite honestly. You said it yourself, demons aren’t made for love. What an equisite way to torture one.” 

The angel wasn’t wrong, Crowley thought. He wondered if he wasn’t the worst kind of demon for actively pursuing this. His first thoughts about the scene had been rough, Aziraphale swooping in to save the humans from the wiley tempter. Yet it had become this, Aziraphale’s way of showering him with affection when he couldn’t really turn it down. 

He could, of course. But pretending he couldn’t made it an easier pill to swallow. 

“Now.” Aziraphale stepped back with a pat to Crowley’s ass. “Bend over, hands on the wall.” 

Crowley complied, but he purposely didn’t bend over quite enough. He pressed his hands against the wall and focused on the textured paint beneath them. Aziraphale’s hand pressed between his shoulder blades, gently guiding him where he needed to be. 

“You _must_ know how to bend over properly, Crowley,” he chastised. “My goodness. I didn’t think I’d have to show you everything.” 

Crowley shuddered and allowed himself to be guided, the muscles of his stomach trembling from his bent position. Aziraphale made a pleased sound and slid his hands down Crowley’s sides, all the way down to the edge of his kilt. It was shoved unceremoniously up over his hips and Aziraphale bunched the fabric up in his fist at Crowley’s lower back. 

“Oh you lovely thing.” A hand came down in a sharp slap and Crowley gasped. 

“You’re not supposed to _hit_ lovely things,” Crowley grumbled. 

That earned him another slap and he thrust into the air with a whine. 

“But then you make noises like that,” Aziraphale pointed out, his hand smoothing over where he’d hit. “I love the way you sound.” 

With one hand still bunched up in the kilt at Crowley’s back, Aziraphale reached down with the other, fingers trailing along his arse until they dipped between the cheeks and teased him. He’d miracled lube onto his fingers and wasted no time in pressing and massaging Crowley. 

“Aziraphale.” He pressed back against his finger. “I’m not delicate.” 

“I know, my dear,” Aziraphale sounded unbothered. “But I’m afraid you’re not the one running this particular show.” 

That made Crowley’s stomach tense as precome leaked out of him. “Shit. Shit angel, _please_.” 

“In good time.” Aziraphale relented and pressed a single finger into Crowley, pulling it out and then pressing in even deeper. Crowley arched into the touch and pressed back into it, trying to guide the movements. He received a slap for his effort, and a threatening tug on the kilt. 

“Be still,” Aziraphale commanded again, another edge of holiness filtering through his words. It seared Crowley. He stilled. The finger returned, this time with a second, and Aziraphale worked them in and out of him for longer than necessary. Crowley was on the edge of begging, Aziraphale purposely skirting the place he wished to be touched in the name of preparing him. But he was good, he remained still, even though he wanted more. 

“My lovely Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, voice laden with affection. “Look at you being so good for me. You’re taking this punishment so well, opening yourself up, letting me love you.” 

Tears pricked at the back of Crowley’s eyes. He said nothing. Aziraphale rewarded him with a gentle press of his prostate. 

Crowley yelped and thrust forward into the air and then back against the finger, and then he came in a sudden overwhelming moment of white hot pleasure. He trembled as come pulsed out of him, spattering the wall and the floor. All he heard from Aziraphale was a surprised ‘oh’ but the angel continued to massage his prostate, working him until he was shying away from the touch. 

“Well that was something wasn’t it?” Aziraphale removed his fingers and rubbed the flat of his hand over Crowley’s ass. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley mumbled, shame quickly following. He hadn’t expected that either. Aziraphale had held him so deliciously on the edge he thought he’d have more control. “I didn’t mean to. Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“Hush darling.” Aziraphale’s hands turned him, his kilt falling back into place as he was pulled into a hug. “That was lovely, that was perfect, you’re so beautiful. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, inhaling the smell of books, old leather, and his cologne. Aziraphale’s hands soothed up and down his back as he shivered and came back from orgasm. “Didn’t mean to come that fast.” 

“That’s quite alright. I did tell you I wanted you to come untouched.” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to his temple. “Do you remember what comes next?” 

“Yesss.” Crowley mouthed at Aziraphale’s pulse and then made a shocked sound as he was pushed against the wall. Aziraphale’s eyes raked over him and he ‘tsk’ed. 

“This won’t do.” He stepped forward and began to unbutton Crowley’s jacket, vest, and shirt until his chest was revealed. “Ah yes, much better.” 

Crowley watched with growing hunger as Aziraphale palmed himself through his prissy trousers and then unfastened them, pulling out his cock. Crowley licked his lips in anticipation, eyes flicking up to meet Aziraphale’s. 

“I love the way you look at me,” Aziraphale said with all sincerity. “I wish you could see yourself. You have so much love in your eyes.” 

“Impossible,” Crowley murmured. 

“Hardly. You think you’re some terrible creature, birthed from hellfire and sulphur. You’re not. You are capable of love, of kindness, of, dare I say it, being _nice_.” 

Crowley growled. “Come here and _fuck me_ already.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “No.” He stroked himself slowly. 

“Angel.” 

“ _Demon_.” Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. Crowley scowled. “Lovely, beautiful, handsome demon.” 

This time Crowley said nothing. He merely watched as Aziraphale approached and ignored the distinct sensation that in this scenario, he was the prey and Aziraphale was the predator. 

The angel stood close and ran a thoughtful hand down his exposed chest. Crowley shivered. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, voice rasping. 

“I love it,” Aziraphale answered before he leaned in and kissed Crowley fiercely. Crowley immediately wound his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and held him close as they shifted their positions. Crowley moved willingly, Aziraphale’s arms were strong, his hands firm on Crowley’s thighs as he hiked him up against the wall. 

Once Crowley was balanced between the wall and Aziraphale’s hips, Aziraphale shoved his kilt back up and then used one hand to guide himself into Crowley. There was a bit of a burn, a slight stretch, but then he was sliding in and Crowley gasped and nearly whacked his head against the wall as he pushed back against it. 

“Angel.” 

“I love the way you say my name when my cock is buried in you,” Aziraphale whispered into his ear as he began a slow, steady thrust. “I love how pliant you become beneath my hands and my mouth. How you let me pleasure you because you are so worthy of my attention.” 

Crowley whimpered, eyes shut tightly as if he could keep the words from entering his mind. Aziraphale’s cock dragged whenever he pulled out, providing a delicious and wonderful friction, threatening to leave him empty before shoving back in. He was full. Full of Aziraphale, surrounded by his love. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders and hung on as Aziraphale found a firm and steady rhythm. 

“I love,” Aziraphale panted against his jaw, “how big your pupils get, how golden your eyes turn. I love how you begin to lose control and your canines go sharp. They are so wonderful when you drag them across my skin, did you know that? Oh, Crowley, you’re so wonderful to me.” 

Crowley shuddered and dragged Aziraphale by his hair into a desperate, sloppy kiss. At least it shut the angel up for a moment as Crowley collected himself, despite Aziraphale continuing to steadily fuck him against the wall. 

“I love the way you kiss me,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “So warm and waton, so needy, so lovely.” 

The words drew a keening whine from somewhere keep in Crowley’s chest. “Harder, angel. Please fuck me harder.” 

“I do so love the way you beg, but no my dear. I don’t think so.” To prove his point, Aziraphale’s hands slid down Crowley’s sides and came to rest on his hips, curling in the fabric of the kilt as he continued to steadily fuck him. At this point Crowley’s legs were curled around his waist and his back was arched off the wall for balance. 

Aziraphale was ultimately the only thing holding him up. His foundation in so many ways. 

Crowley bared his throat and Aziraphale took the offer, his mouth hot and biting along the soft skin. His teeth dug in particularly hard at the base of his throat in a way that made Crowley’s cock twitch, renewed interest quickly becoming known. Crowley cried out in surprise and dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s hair, squirming and moving to try and get him to go _faster_ and _harder_ and to give him _more_. 

He realized he had babbled those words only when Aziraphale chuckled. “I love how desperate you get.” 

Crowley purposely clenched his ass around him, reveling in the sharp gasp and stutter of Aziraphale’s hips. “Yeah, angel, see? I can make it so good, make myself so tight. Just fuck me a little harder.” 

Aziraphale’s hips came to a stop. He was buried to the hilt. Crowley tried to lower his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders but his wrists were grabbed and pinned roughly to the wall. He chanced a glance into Aziraphale’s blue eyes and shivered, the shadows inside of him retreating at the holy glower he received. 

“No.” Aziraphale’s voice had that holy sear to it again and Crowley wiggled his hips desperately. “I will fuck you as I like.” 

Crowley waited but there was just silence and his own restless shifting ended in an angle that had Aziraphale pressed right against his prostate. He hissed with it, trying to grind down as Aziraphale held him. 

“Interesting,” Aziraphale murmured and Crowley hated how turned on he was by the detachment in the angel’s voice. “Think you could fuck yourself on my cock from this position, Crowley? Move those sinful hips of yours?” 

He shifted his hold on Crowley’s wrists, pinning both against the wall with one hand while the other teased over the quivering muscles of his belly. “Go on then,” Aziraphale whispered. “Try.” 

Though he was an occult being his corporation was still bound by the rules of human bodies, to an extent. So when he tried to lift his hips his abs hissed in protest. But he squirmed on Aziraphale’s cock nonetheless, savoring every small thrust he managed to win. Each of them made his cock twitch as precome dripped from the tip. 

Aziraphale merely watched, pretending to be impassive, but Crowley saw the fire of desire in his eyes. His angel was close, and watching him struggle on his cock was just pushing him closer. 

Finally, muscles aching and fatigued, he gave up and went lax against the wall. He gazed at Aziraphale. 

“Are you quite done?” Aziraphale asked, hand splaying across his stomach. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him warmly as his hands supported Crowley’s ass so he could start to fuck into him again. “I love you, Crowley. I love you more than anything in Heaven, or on Earth, or in the universe. You are my sun, my moon, an awning in the rain, a port in the storm.” 

As he shared soft declarations he steadily increased the pace of his thrusts and Crowley whimpered, holding onto him. Every word burned through him, reminding him of the holiness he’d lost and the love he had gained anyway. 

“Aziraphale,” he gasped. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale repeated. “And I will love you until the universe is torn to pieces, but I will love you even after that, until we are reduced to nothing but atoms and I don’t have the capacity for it any longer.” 

His thrusts became frantic. “I love you.” 

“I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped out. “Now come in me, please. I want to feel you come.” 

“Oh, oh Crowley,” Aziraphale dropped his head to his shoulder and began to drive into him, lost to it. Crowley’s hands found his shoulders, fascinated by the shift of muscles as Aziraphale’s movements shoved him into the wall over and over again. “Yes, yes, my love.” 

He thrust in twice more before he bit down on Crowley’s shoulder and filled him, the stuttering motion of his hips slowing until his thrusts were nothing but gentle pushes in. 

Crowley was rock hard. “Please, angel.” 

“Mm. One moment.” Aziraphale carefully extracted himself from Crowley and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before he dropped onto his knees. Crowley groaned and closed his eyes because he couldn’t handle the sight of Aziraphale, his angel, on his knees in a fucking _storage closet_ , taking his cock into his mouth. 

When he finally did look down, Aziraphale was looking up at him with all the love and adoration in the world and Crowley came on his tongue in an instant with a stuttering cry. 

Aziraphale miracled them back to the cottage, Crowley refusing to let go until Aziraphale had kissed him at least half a dozen times. “My love,” Aziraphale murmured, petting Crowley’s hair. “You’re alright. I’m here.” 

Crowley hid his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder and took steadying breaths. “Shit, angel.” 

“Was that what you hoped it would be?” He asked, gently pushing Crowley up into a standing position to help him out of his outfit, kilt and all, leading him to the bathroom. 

“Yesssss.” Crowley sat on the toilet seat as Aziraphale filled up a bath and deposited him in it. He let the warm water soothe his worn out muscles as Aziraphale washed his hair, taking extra time to rub shampoo into his scalp. When he was rinsed and clean, Aziraphale stripped and they crawled into bed. 

Crowley nestled up against him. 

“All of the things I said are true, you know,” Aziraphale pointed out as he ran his fingers through Crowley’s shaggy and wet hair. He’d been growing it out, mostly so Aziraphale would play with it like he was. 

“I know, angel.” Crowley murmured, nosing at his throat and pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“Good. You are the thing I love most in this world.” 

“Mmph. ‘Zira.” He huffed. 

“Well, it is true.” Aziraphale tugged his hair gently. “And if I have to fuck it into you again I will.” 

“Nngk. You can’t just _say_ things like that.” 

“I just did.” 

“I’ve already come twice.” 

“And you don’t think I could work a third out of you?” 

Crowley groaned. “Can I have a nap first?” 

Aziraphale chuckled. “Of course, my love. Anything for you.” 

When he brushed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead, he started to believe it: Aziraphale would likely do anything for him, and that thought rocked him into a warm and sated rest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/likelyshovels) or [tumblr](https://waffleironbiddingwar.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
